


A Collection of My Misery AKA YOI drabbles

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Drabbles, F/F, Fluff, M/M, idk they're all short af
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-01
Updated: 2017-07-01
Packaged: 2018-11-22 02:26:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,571
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11370657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: read the title. It's basically fluff and sometimes porn.





	1. Mila/Sara

“Mila, stop it!”

“Hold still—I just need to put this one daisy in and…oh my god are those split ends?”

“Screw you.”

The brown-skinned brunette fell to the ground laughing with endless insanity, tiny loose flowers threaded messily in her hair.

Mila, the red-headed woman pouting right next to her, tackled Sara to the grass and snuggled her head right beneath her jaw. She laid chaste kisses upon it, hugging her tight and resting her entire weight on her.

“I love you.”

“You’re bad at making flower crowns. Here, I”ll show you,” Sara said. In response, Mila promptly defended her hair with her hands.

“I just washed my hair six times after that paint fight earlier. There’s purple paint splattered everywhere in the shower and it looks like Barney took a shit in there.”

“Can’t be that bad,” Sara assured with an innocent smile, hiding a boundless sort of mischief.

“Sure,” and she rolled them over slowly, with Sara on top. In return she crouched down to give Mila a peck, chuckling after. 

The red-head slid her hands up to the brunette’s face and squeezed the flesh of her cheekbones their, stretching it a bit to get Sara roused.

“Cute.”

“You’re insatiable.”

“Oh? Making a reference to the bedroom, I see. I mean, if that’s what you want…”

Mila felt the sharp thud of Sara’s soft hand whack her forehead, her face contorted into a silly frown and about to scold her.

“You’re not exactly…wrong per say.”

“Bedroom it is,” Mila hollered and threw Sara onto her shoulder as she led the both of them into their apartment, with Sara punching her back as she threw her head back and laughed.


	2. Otabek/Yuri

November tended to be a bitch to Yuri. Chilly winds taunted him throughout the day, leaving his teeth chattering and seething.

But this, this was the only comfort he had—as stupid as it was. He liked sitting outside his apartment on the balcony to zone out. Sleep? What was that? Yuri didn’t know, at least he didn’t now.

“Jesus—how much of a dumbass am I that I didn’t bring my fucking jacket?” Yuri shivered. His hands were chilled to the core, half numb and completely pale. The veins on his arms appeared like blue snakes running up and down.

“Fuck this. Fuck November—You hear that Mother Nature? This is all your fault I’m like this. I hope you feel great when I die of hyperthermia—”

“It’s hypothermia, Yura. And why are outside like this—don’t tell me you plan on dying already,” Otabek chimed in, sleep prominent in his tone of voice. The blond stiffened in surprise but failed to acknowledge it.

He took a seat right behind Yuri and wrapped his arms around him, tugging him in to place his chin right upon the blond’s head. In response he huffed in annoyance, before giving into his defeat and rested his entire weight on him. Yuri could feel the way Otabek struggled to do anymore, the way his breathing would change from calm, even breaths to rapid, uneven ones. He was tired, but still came out to see what was going on with Yuri.

“Hypo, hyper—same thing.”

“No, they’re actually two completely different things.”

“Like you and me?”

“I’d consider us fairly the same in all honesty,” the Kazakh chuckled.

The blond still didn’t feel like sleeping. Fatigue didn’t hit him the same way it did with Otabek—in fact Yuri usually fell asleep around four in the morning, to his boyfriend’s annoyance.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to sleep—he did, but no matter what pills he took or meditation he practiced, fatigue never came to him.

“You’ve grown a lot, you know,” Otabek said quietly, tracing the happy trail on Yuri’s stomach down to the waistband of his boxers. “I’m at a lost for words—really.”

“I’m 20. We’ve been boyfriends for four years and banging for two.”

“And were those a good two years,” the brunet teased, earning a slap on his shoulder.

Yuri felt Otabek’s bicep twitch with the chills, then the disappointing emptiness behind him as he went back inside to get something. He returned with the quilt from their shared couch—a red and white fabric as long as the balcony they sat on and wide as the two of them put together, conveniently.

“Again. I don’t want us to die a couple of years earlier just because you refused to go out without proper clothing—and before you object let me tell you that a crop top and boxers are barely suitable for a night like this.”

He took his place next to Yuri again, spreading the quilt over the two of them as evenly as he could. Yuri tried not to notice, but he found it hard to ignore how the brunet subtly gave his boyfriend more of the quilt. The cold was now bearable, but his feet and hands were still chilly. 

His boyfriend’s body seemed warmer, so he nearly clambered on top of him, wrapping his limbs around his body to Otabek’s obliviousness.

“I still can’t sleep, you know,” Yuri breathed.

“I know, and I also know that the pills you’ve been taking and the meditation sessions haven’t been helping as well. Anything you need to talk about, Yura?

Otabek’s brown eyes glistened with an odd spark, that spark that usually meant that he genuinely wanted to know something. He gave a smile, to assure Yuri that he wouldn’t mock him.

The blond let out a shaky breath, a puff of air dissipating into the atmosphere.

“Practices, competitions, people in general—I’m so used to everything that by now sleep is so…foreign to me. So I just come out here to think and sometimes I end up feeling… not so great? I don’t know what fucking word to use but I just know that I’m tired. I’m tired but I can’t sleep—how screwed up am I, Beka?”

He swore the arms around him tightened immediately in response, and the breathing in Otabek’s chest quickened rapidly.

But then he felt Otabek’s soft strands of hair tickle his jaw as he tucked his head in tightly. He felt the quilt wrap around them the same way, making it impossible for the winds to get to them.

A drop—a drop of something warm and wet hit his shoulder, running down the length of Yuri’s arm. Two or three more followed.

“Would it be bad if I said the same thing? If I told you I also felt the same way about myself?”

“Why would you think that I would think it’s bad, Beka?”

“You—you’re not a screwed up person, Yura. And if you still think you are then so am I, and I’m willing to do anything not to let you go,” the brunet breathed heavily. “I’m willing to love you through all your crazy shit.”

“You’re a sap.”

“Mm, but I still love you.”

He tugged at Yuri’s crop top, signaling that they should return to the safe haven of their bedroom.

Yuri’s hands interrupted him however as they slid to his eyes, cautiously wiping the streaks of tears on his cheeks and patting them gently.

“You’re going to be the reason my heart explodes and why I’ll be in the hospital,” he grumbled.

“I’ll gladly pay the medical bills, then,” Otabek smirked.

They staggered back to the bed, with Otabek’s entire body resting upon Yuri’s equally strong body—both breathed a sigh of relief as the mount of pillows hit their backs.

As for Yuri, it was the first time he’d fallen asleep before four am.

___________

Alternate title: My boyfriend cries on my shoulder which makes me cry as well and fuck now I’m dead.


	3. Otabek/Yuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuri gets kicked out by his mom after she finds gay porn in his room. He finds Otabek waiting for him, a rich boy dressed as a punk with the best pink hair, at the front of his house with his dad’s stolen car. 
> 
> Feelings are confessed, but Yuri’s response is anything but what Otabek had expected.

Yuri glanced sideways at the mirror for the fifth time this hour. A wide open cut marred his cheek, while a bruise decorated his other side. He dabbed the cloth of alcohol directly onto the area, grimacing at the burn of pain swimming through his face.

“Fuck!”

The alcohol started dripping down, seeping into a minor wound below the cut and made him drop the cloth. 

His mom was going to have another fit again. He’d have to wait though, since she left at nine and got home at ten. Yuri cringed at thought of having to face another slap to the face.

Gay? Then go sell your ass to someone on the street then, ‘cause that’s where you’ll be living tonight.

If his mom wanted him gone, Yuri would never think twice of leaving.

The blond stepped over the cloth to grab the handle of his door, quickly grabbing the worn Swiss Army knapsack he kept hanging at the door. He opened it, only to be greeted by the lack of food and the abundance of granola bar wrappers. A groan escaped his split lips.

“How much do I eat in a day—Mom doesn’t bother buying food anymore and I’m all out of funds,” he calculated slowly.

His stomach growled angrily.

“Seems like I’m starving tonight.”

The door behind him closed, a silent goodbye to the moldy, broken-down bedroom his mom made him live in for the past month since she got laid off. The bomber jacket Yuri sported was a nice shield to the merciless winds outside.

He stopped dead in his tracks—a guy with the darkest of brown hair dyed pink styled messily over on one side lounged near the rusted fence of his house, a leather jacket to complete his stereotypical punk outfit. A car—a black Tesla it looked like—was parked to his right, shining in all its glory.

“About time you showed up—get in the car. We have a reservation at ten this morning,” Otabek Altin grinned. How was he supposed to predict that his best friend would show up unexpectedly with a Tesla worth thousands in a leather jacket?

“Sorry, Beka. Momma told me strangers were a danger.”

“Last time I checked your momma just kicked you out for the night. And you know well that I’m anything but a stranger,” the brunet scoffed. “Get in—my dad still doesn’t know and I’d like to keep it that way.”

The blond still rolled his eyes, earning a more intense glare from his best friend and gave in. Otabek opened the door as he stepped into the car, and in response stuck his tongue out. He followed Yuri into the car afterwards, buckling himself in tightly and looked over at the blond.

“Caterpillar eyebrows.”

“I’ve got nice eyebrows, you can’t deny that.”

“They’re stupid looking, just like you.”

“Glad to know I still look beautiful to you.”

“Self-centered bastard,” Yuri couldn’t help but laugh at. The brunet chuckled lightly along, but had yet to start the car he noticed.

“What’re you waiting for? Start the car.”

The brunet still hesitated to do so, his gloved hands gripping the set of car keys. His brown—nearly black eyes were focused on something else.

“Beka.”

No answer.

“Beka. Start the car—”

Lips laced with warm cinnamon savagely collided his own at first, melting into a blob Yuri couldn’t fathom. Yuri felt Otabek’s tongue subtly slip in, but felt him pull away sharply as fast as he had kissed him. Yuri’s hand was still hanging in the air between them, missing the strands of pink hair he’d felt as they’d kissed.

“I’m so sorry I—fuck I wasn’t thinking. I just missed you so much and when you texted me last night about your mom hitting I was ready to come over there and—I nearly scared myself shitless thinking about if you were going to come back to me,” Otabek hyperventilated, almost losing his calm exterior.

“Fuck it.”

The blond made another shot for Otabek’s lips, more daring and with more passion this time. He slid both his bruised hands into the mess of pink on his head, gripping it tighter and tighter by the second. The other sighed, letting Yuri set the rhythm before he gently pushed him back.

“Why?” the punk inquired. “I kissed you without consent—”

“I trust you. I trust you not to hurt me and I know damn well that you would rather get floored by a train than do that. Besides, it’s not like I don’t feel the same way…”

Otabek smiled widely in relief, keeping his eyes focused on Yuri’s blue ones. The blond couldn’t help but lean in for another peck, and another.

“You know, you should really dye your hair. Not that I don’t like it the way it is right now, of course! But you would look absolutely majestic with pink, Yura. No?” he suggested timidly.

“Either way I’d still look better than you.”

“Like hell,” the pink-haired one snorted, pushing the blond into the back seat for another kiss. 

And to Yuri’s amusement, they did end up making it to their reservation. 

_____________

Alternate title: My mom is a jerky homophobe and just kicked me out so I make out with my gay best friend in a Tesla to shove it in her face and afterwards we go out for sushi.


	4. Viktor/Yuuri

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor's at the bar and three chicks come up to him with their own intentions. With no idea that he's gay, Yuuri Katsuki swoops in to save the day and pole-dances his way to victory. Prompt was from @randomsplashes on tumblr.
> 
> Idk how to make a summary anymore, apparently.

“Come one, don’t you wanna get a little drunk with us?”

“Thank you but I’m perfectly fine sitting right here. In this spot. Alone.”

The girls, all clad in dresses higher than their upper thighs, relentlessly tugged at Viktor’s dress shirt. Viktor had half the mind to swat their hands away and seek out his husband, Yuuri. He would need the comfort after this night.

One of the girls, a blond with the same dress as the other girls, crawled upon him, ignoring his personal space bubble and tried to kiss his jaw.

“Hey! Haven’t you heard of consent?”

“Haven’t you heard of a good time?”

A cough appeared out of nowhere, and Yuuri popped out, eyebrows raised and Eros mode cranked up higher than the AC in the club they were in.

“And haven’t you heard of a gay guy?”

He walked closer—stomped closer it seemed like—to Viktor and the rest of them. The girls wouldn’t let go of him though, rather backing up only a few steps and not enough for Yuuri’s liking.

“Think you’re so good, small fry? Why don’t you take a shot at the pole over there?” the blonde pointed at the pole on stage near the DJ. “In fact, how about we girls go up against you? Or are you too scared?”

Viktor wanted to protest so bad, to go into a fifteen minute rant about how his wonderful, excruciatingly hot, amazing husband could wipe the floor with their hair extensions after he took a shot at the pole. 

But he didn’t have to. Yuuri shot one look at them, and immediately he went full EROS mode.

“You’re on.”

__________

The girls returned after five minutes, having been unable to even lift themselves up onto the pole, let alone pole dance. Viktor had to admit though, they had some guts to keep on dancing lamely around the pole before giving up.

Meanwhile, Yuuri was still going at it, trying out new tricks that had people holding up their phones to capture on their cameras. Even the DJ stopped his music, with his jaw dropping harder than Yuuri’s ass did when he danced.

“I’m so fucking gay for him,” Viktor screamed aloud in his head.


End file.
